


Goodnight and Big Balls

by beachkid (binz), binz, shiplizard



Category: Dresden Files - All Media Types, Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Community: dresden_kink, Genital Worship, Kinkmeme, M/M, Plot What Plot, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-02
Updated: 2011-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-16 04:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binz/pseuds/beachkid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/binz/pseuds/binz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiplizard/pseuds/shiplizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plot, what plot?  In which John Marcone is convinced to mix business with pleasure by his security contractor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodnight and Big Balls

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the _Dresden Files_ kinkmeme (round one), for: _For some reason I'd love to see a fic where someone ACTUALLY has incredibly large balls (instead of just in a metaphorical sense). Perhaps someone hasn't gotten any for a while *ahemHarry*, or John REALLY DOES have great big balls, perhaps as a semi-non-human Kincaid's got some giant ones....maybe Hendricks is proportional? Magical affliction? Something somebody ate? ALL OF THE ABOVE!!?? Reactions? Trying to hide and failing? Inability to lie when asked if it was a gun in pocket or happy to see someone. BIG BALLS PEOPLE!!! *Wipeout reference, facepalm*_

"I think we've covered the pertinent ground," I said, closing my leather planner. It peeled off of my bare thighs with a soft, sucking sigh, and I winced at the muted sound of damp paper falling together.

It was unavoidable. Donar Vadderung hadn’t been in a particularly businesslike mood when my slight manpower emergency came up, and he’d heard me out on the condition that I join him in the sauna-- a big wooden affair, dark and steaming and smelling of men and leather. Perhaps it shows how much time I have spent pursuing avenues ...nontraditional to my function that the only thought I had spared for the requirement was for my stationary.

“Think you’re right. Don’t rush off, little man,” he said with a slight smile. “It’s only noon, by your mortal clock, and there’s time enough.”

“I would like to escape before the obligatory flinging oneself into the frozen lake,” I said, looking him politely in the face, meeting the gaze of his one piercing eye. The alternative was... dangerous.

“It may be traditional,” he said, shrugging his massive shoulders-- and I mean massive literally, because he presents himself at just slightly over human scale, a full magnification, ever so slightly omniprescent-- “but I have always preferred rolling into a warm bed.”

“Ah? I suppose there wouldn’t have been the traditional questions of manhood or lack thereof, considering.”

“You have been considering them, haven’t you?”

I froze. My point had been that people-- even the Norse-- don’t idly insult their Gods, but I had walked squarely into a point that I had been avoiding with my entire force of will all through our conference. Don’t think about pink elephants.

Which is to say that I am more than incidentally bisexual and that Donar Vadderung was a splendid older man with working muscle all over, a cock like a stallion, and testicles the size of grapefruit that I had been trying not to imagine fondling. My leather planner had hidden my erection until it died of disuse-- or so I thought.

“Stay a while, won’t you, Marcone?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m a little confused... legend has it that you prefer women,” I said, planner squeaking as I twisted it in my hands. I stilled them, admittedly cross to have given even that much of my nerves away; infallibility is a trying mask to maintain.

It had been... quite some time since I’d been with a man.

“Legend has always been told to the convenience of the teller. Me? There aren’t so many handsome people in the world I feel I can content myself with only half of them.”

I’m usually not called ‘handsome’ in my business meetings-- or subject to long, one-eyed perusals so nearly tactile that they could be construed as sexual harassment in the right context. My throat was dry when I spoke. “I’m not sure I’d be able to do much of anything strenuous, in this heat-- I fear I’d be fairly disappointing.”

“Nonsense, little one, you think I’d let anything happen to you?” He patted his lap, that slight smile returning. “Come here, it’s trying work to watch you standing over there fighting with yourself.”

“I have to go--”

“You’ll have time. And what other man can promise you that, in your busy life with your city and all its souls?” It struck to the core of me: light as a feather, heavy as stone. First blood.

Some of my associates would think less of me for what I did next-- which was to walk to his side, kneel before him, and pillow my head in his thighs. They can go fuck themselves. I hadn’t met a man I trusted even as far as I could throw him since I ascended to my position-- barring Hendricks, of course, but he was his own rare beast and one I wasn’t going to tamper with.

Donar Vadderung parted his knees to allow me access, and I slid between them as if I’d been built to fit. I rubbed my cheek along the long shaft of his half-hard cock, slid my hands reverently under the double-handful of his balls, dragged my mouth along the rough-soft skin that covered them. One massive hand rested on my shoulder, encouraging-- almost perversely paternal-- and I groaned in defeat and laved my tongue around one testicle. It was entirely as good as I’d been afraid of.

“How long since you’ve been with a man?” he said, sounding sympathetic.

“Too long.” I stretched my mouth wide, tried to get one of his balls in, couldn’t quite. He chuckled at the sight of it, my lips straining as I tried to envelop him. “Mmm,” I mouthed what at what would fit. “I think you could literally be the father of all with these.”

“If I’m not, it isn’t for lack of trying.” There was a self-satisfied purr under his words, rich and pleased, and my toes curled at the sound.

I gave up, simply nuzzling my face against his cock and balls, basking in the heat and smell of him. A perfunctory attempt to pay a bit more attention to his cock was met with a gentle shove back down; apparently ball worship was the order of the day, and I wish I could say that I was less than enthusiastic.

When his hand finally lifted off my shoulder, his testes were spit-slick and shiny with my attention, and my own cock was fully erect again, bobbing heavy between my legs.

“I’m going to have your ass, little man, unless you say me no.”

“Oh god yes,” I said, well past even pretending to be reluctant. A thought struck, an errant moment of clear-headedness. “I...will I be able to walk afterward?”

“I have my ways. Trust me.”

“Not really.”

“No physical harm is in one of our contracts, if it helps.”

“It does.” I got to my feet, knees stiff, and at his wave bent over the bench he’d been sitting on.

“Give me your mouth,” he said, and I turned my head to slurp at his cock, bathing it in spit to match what I’d done for his balls-- then his fingers when he offered them to me, sucking so enthusiastically that he had to fend me off with a laugh.

He had his ways-- when his fingers slid into my ass, they were covered in something much slicker and more viscous than saliva, and the discomfort faded much more quickly than it should have, becoming a warm, pleasant burn. I jerked back against them without thought, my breath catching.

“Another time, I’ll eat you until you scream, but I’m not patient today,” he grunted, and I felt the whatever-it-was soaking into my muscles and loosening them until his fingers moved easily in me.

“No,” I agreed, strangled.

“Want it, then?” he said jovially.

“Please.”

“Mm. Say pretty please.”

Was this my penance for screwing with Dresden over the phone? If it was, this heavenly host was sending me _extremely_ missed messages. I needed to screw with Dresden _every day_.

“Pretty please. Please god, please--” I humped back against his fingers.

“You can call me Wodan,” he chuckled, and replaced his fingers with his cock.

I believe on the first thrust my spine melted with the pleasure, but he got far enough up my ass to keep me upright, so there wasn’t a problem in the long run.

“Oh god,” I said, my arms shaking where I was holding my bent weight, feeling for all the world like I’d just been split in two glorious pieces. “Oh god.”

“Donar Vadderung is fine, too,” he said, and pulled out and slid back in, balls slapping my ass with a loud clap, still wet from my mouth.

I degenerated into wordless moaning with really shocking speed, and I certainly didn’t have the presence of mind to try to count the minutes, maybe the hours we spent, me bent and him pounding me, the swing of his balls all the way between my legs on a deep thrust. The steam and the strength of his arms, when mine gave out and he had to hold me up drove me to delirium.

At some point he found my prostate and started driving it like a nail, and a while after that, when I’d been howling his name until my throat was hoarse, he reached between my legs and squeezed my comparatively modest testicles. I made a sound I don’t think I’m physically capable of reproducing, and orgasm smacked me upside the head like two tons of brick. I felt rather than saw my cock twitch in the air and start to spurt-- from the pressure in my balls I half expected it to hit me in the face.

I went limp with exhaustion in Donar Vadderung’s hands; he gave a few more long thrusts, and then buried himself to the hilt in me and pulsed out his release.

Then, without any apparent loss of energy, he laid me on the bench and thumped me on the back, making me shake and gasp as he pulled out of me.

“I knew you’d be a good lay, as well as a pretty face.” He flipped my legs up onto the bench so that I didn’t slide limply down the side, my muscles of a consistency closer to tapioca than anything else. It would have been difficult to explain those splinters away, to say the least.

“Guah?”

“You’re welcome,” he said, voice thick with self-satisfaction. “Rest a while. It’s good for the limbs, you know. Your clothes are outside; tell one of my men when you’re ready to leave.”

“Mnn. Nnaa. Thaank you,” I managed, my voice unfamiliar and throaty.

“My pleasure.” He swatted me on the ass. “Come report in, once you’ve pulled that wizard of yours out of his latest fire. I’ll want a full briefing. ...That is a reference to your underclothes, mind you.”

“Of course,” I said, a bit light-headed, my brain snatching the phrase from my mental autofill while my higher reasoning functions remained AWOL.

He left me in the steam, and if it was dark it wasn’t because I wasn’t glowing hard enough.

And then I went and blew up the lower levels of the Raith Chateau, nearly losing my life in the process, but frankly, a restful evening was nice after a board meeting like that.


End file.
